Black Heart, Black Star
by Loubi Lou
Summary: A big, old fashioned, romantic story with Dr/Hr, Harry (not on his own, obviously), mysterious new faces and places and all sorts of other stuff. I hope it's gonna turn out really pooch, but you never can tell...r n r please
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Everything recognizably J K Rowling's is (of course) hers, I don't own any of it (if I did, would I really be writing for fanfiction??) Everything else is mine. Oh, except for the title, coz I kinda stole that from a Radiohead song - so that's not mine either.  
  
Chapter One  
  
The summer sun rested upon the crooked rooftops of central London while the sky surrounding it, flushed in a final blaze before nightfall, grew darker and became studded with the glittering lights of distant constellations. The flurry of mingled conversation and laughter drifted in and out of open windows, carried by the gentle breeze of a warm summer evening. As she leant out of her window to watch the bustling street below her, the same breeze kissed her cheek and lifted her hair off her face. The scent of honeysuckle, freshly cut grass and far off barbecues filled her lungs and, for the first time in weeks, she felt truly happy. As she gazed into the glowing sun she forgot, just for a moment, all of the pain and darkness of the past and became lost in the majestic beauty of the last day of August. For as long as she could remember, the sight of true beauty could touch her heart, and even today a faint smile flickered across her lips as the rusty highlights of the evening  
sky sparkled in her black eyes and wove copper threads into her long, curly hair.  
  
She turned her back to the setting sun and surveyed the room around her. It had gown quite gloomy while she wasn't looking and Onyx's bright eyes blinked at her from the darkness of the bed.  
  
"Poor Onyx, you must be bored, stuck in here all day with no ickle mice to play with," she said, moving towards the bed to sit next to her cat. A soft miaow was her only reply. "I'll take it that means "Oh no Morwenna, I'm not bored at all. But now that you mention it, I am a little peckish". Well don't fret, my feline friend, when we get to Hogwarts tomorrow there'll be thousands of fat little mice just queuing up to be your dinner." At this, Onyx opened her mouth in a wide yawn, stood up, stretched out her sleek back, turned around and curled up to go to sleep. "Hmm...I suppose that's what I get for talking to a cat," she said dejectedly. Without even a cat for conversation, Morwenna sighed and stood up to do what she had been putting off all day. "Time to pack".  
  
She lit some candles, put some food out for Onyx and began filling her trunks. After staying in the Leaky Cauldron for only a week, Morwenna had somehow managed to cover the whole room in a layer of clothes, books and other assorted items. As trying to form the chaos into any kind of order seemed about as possible as poking a sleeping dragon in the eye and not getting singed eyebrows, she decided to stuff as much into her two large trunks as possible, and wear any clothes which wouldn't fit. After settling on this system of packing, the process only took an hour (half of which was taken up with a frantic search for her wand, which she eventually found propping open her window), leaving her time to go down to the bar for a cold Butterbeer before bed.  
  
Sitting alone in the crowded bar she found herself wondering what the next day would hold, never having seen Hogwarts she could only imagine what it must be like from what her mother had told her. One thing she was sure of was that Hogwarts would be completely different to her old school. On the eve of her journey to a completely new life, she felt a confusion of emotions accumulating inside her, each battling with the others for her attention. But, determined that she wasn't going to give Hogwarts, the future or the past even a moment's thought, she shook out her curls, stood up and made her way to bed for a good nights sleep before the Hogwarts Express departed the next morning.  
  
***  
  
The sun had almost completely set, but Harry continued to gaze at the orange streaks of cloud in the darkening sky. The breeze that ruffled his messy black hair was becoming cooler, and the smell of Mrs Weasley's fantastic cooking was becoming stronger. A soft sound behind him made Harry spin around quickly, only to find Ginny's nervous head poking round the door behind him.  
  
"Umm...Sorry to interrupt, but Mum says dinner's ready."  
  
"Oh, thanks Ginny, I'll be down in a second". Ginny gave an embarrassed little smile and vanished from the doorway. Even after all these years Ginny hadn't quite got over the fact that THE Harry Potter was her brother Ron's best friend, and as the years had gone by, and he had got much better looking, she couldn't stop an insane giggle from bubbling out of her every time he looked at her with those startling green eyes. Harry, being a boy, still had no idea why he produced this kind of reaction from her, and often wondered whether she thought he just had incredibly amusing freckle patterns, or an abnormally large forehead. Thinking that it might be his notoriously untidy hair that she found so amusing, he made an attempt to flatten it down with is hands and made his way down the narrow staircases of The Burrow.  
  
Harry had been staying with Ron and his family for three weeks of this summer holiday at their crowded, but incredibly cosy house that they all affectionately called "The Burrow", and he had enjoyed every minute of it. Fred, George, Percy and Bill had all come home for the holidays and the bright, sunny days had been whiled away in endless, and increasingly violent, games of Quidditch and trips to the beach. Harry had made it his mission to teach the Weasley family the basics of muggle transport and communication devices. So far he had succeeded in taking them by train to Bournemouth beach and getting them to use a telephone without totally baffling the person on the other end. Only yesterday they had managed to order a pizza and arrange to meet Hermione at Kings Cross station in time for the Hogwarts Express the next morning.  
  
The holiday hadn't been a string of endless fun, though. Every evening Mr Weasley and Percy would come home from work with more reports of missing people and mysterious murders. For two years now a shadow had hung over the wizarding world and it was felt by everyone. Since the end of Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts, nobody knew what Voldemort was doing - nobody saw him, nobody saw any sign of what he was doing, but everybody felt his presence. The only place Harry felt truly safe was at Hogwarts, and even there he didn't know who he could trust.  
  
Dinner was the best Mrs Weasley had ever made and the atmosphere at the table was bright and cheerful. Yesterday Ron had suddenly snapped out of his melancholy mood when he realised that he was going to see Blythe again in less than two days. Blythe was Ron's girlfriend, she arrived at Hogwarts at Christmas in their fifth year and had been Ron's main topic of conversation ever since. He had been moping about all holiday like a lovesick Hippogriff and Harry was very glad that school was going to start again tomorrow, just so that Blythe could take Ron off his hands for a while. While Ron's love life was blossoming, Harry was about to enter his seventh year at Hogwarts without even a hint of a girlfriend.  
  
"Who needs one anyway?" he muttered to himself as he curled up in his bed, listening to Ron dream happily about Blythe's crystal blue eyes. "I need one" he said, answering his own question, then closed his eyes and tried to ignore Ron's snoring to get a good night's sleep before his last ever trip on the Hogwart's Express.  
  
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OK, that's it so far...it's really a kind of `setting the scene' chapter, more will happen later...hopefully. Anyway, I would really appreciate some reviews (good and bad). Thanx for reading. Happy Valentines day. 


	2. Couldn't escape if I wanted to

Disclaimer: I obviously don't own any of this stuff, I'm making no money and don't think I'm J K Rowling. I wish I was, but that's not the point…Lyrics from various train related songs also not mine (probably owned by v. rich record company-type-folk)  
  
1 Chapter Two  
  
"Now you've got you're wand?"  
  
"Yes Mum."  
  
"And your books?"  
  
"Yes Mum."  
  
"And your Pig?"  
  
"Ye' - oh bugger, I left it in the fridge"  
  
"Mind your language young man…and why is your owl in the fridge?" Mrs Weasley called after her youngest son as he raced back into The Burrow to rescue his pet owl from death by pneumonia. The Weasley family and Harry were gathered outside trying to cram trunks, bags, animals and other assorted articles into one small, brown leather suit case to take on their impending journey to Kings Cross Station in time for the Hogwart's Express at eleven o' clock. Ron emerged from the house carrying a little cage containing a bewildered looking owl with what appeared to be a thin layer of frost covering it's fluffy feathers. Stuffing the cage into the suit case, he looked up at his family expectantly,  
  
"Shall we go then?" he asked those gathered around him. His family eyed him suspiciously.  
  
"Why was Pig in the fridge?" Ginny asked looking at her brother mistrustfully. There was a nervous pause while Ron considered what he would say. Suddenly he threw up his arm and shot a glance at his watch.  
  
"Oh! Would you look at the time! Let's go go go! No time for idle chit chat, lot's to do!" This forced Mrs Weasley to look at her own watch, and to discover that they were, in fact, running exceedingly behind schedule, sending her into a fury of checking, straightening and flustering. She herded the whole party down the quiet street to the local station, and on to the waiting train to Waterloo.  
  
***  
  
"Waterloo, I was defeated you won the war, daada dadada," sung Harry under his breath as the crowd of red-heads made their way through King's Cross Station towards platform nine and three quarters. "Waterloo, promise to love you forever more, wo wo wo wo…"  
  
"Umm…Harry, you seem to be singing about a train station. Are you OK or do you need to sit down for a moment…maybe Fred and George put something suspicious in your pumpkin juice this morning..." said Ron, smiling at his friend despite the fact that people were starting to stare at them (it never crossed his mind that passers by might be more worried about the fact that the perfectly average looking suit case Mr Weasley was carrying was making various perplexed owl-noises).  
  
"Shut up. It's a muggle song from the seventies, it's been stuck in my head since we changed trains at Waterloo – 'My my! At Waterloo…'" Harry continued to sing, smiling widely as he saw Ron become more and more embarrassed as Harry sung louder, "'…Napoleon did surrender!'"  
  
"'Oh yes! and I have met my destiny in quite a similar way'" chimed in another, feminine voice from a few meters away. Harry and Ron stopped suddenly and turned to find Hermione grinning broadly beside them.  
  
"I didn't know you could sing, Hermione," said Ron, still looking decidedly embarrassed to be seen with two psychotic loonies singing abnormally loudly about train stations.  
  
Hermione giggled and looked at Ron, " Are you alright, Ron - your ears have gone all red." She then looked at Harry with a mischievous grin "'The history book on the shelf'"  
  
Harry joined in loudly, "'Is always repeating itseeeelllllffff!!" The group started to walk again, Harry and Hermione singing happily with Ron straggling beside them, trying to see how many people were staring. He thought his embarrassment couldn't get any worse, but was proved completely wrong when Harry introduced an air-piano into the duet, and Draco Malfoy was spotted leaning against a wall watching the three of them with a slow smile crawling across his smug face.  
  
The three friends stacked their bags in an empty compartment on the motionless steam train, and got off again to wish their family good bye. Ron was hugged and kissed roughly by every member of his family, as was Harry who was now considered a part of this family, especially as he had no one else to say goodbye to or who would miss him when he was gone. They boarded the train once more and waved from the window as it slowly chugged out of the station and Northwards to Hogwarts.  
  
"Wow, our last year at Hogwarts – scary, huh?" Said Hermione as soon as they had made themselves comfortable.  
  
"Yeah, I still have no idea what I'm gonna do next year. Maybe I'll go backpacking around the world, hunting for the lost city of Atlantis or something." Harry was gazing out the window wondering what he was really going to do next year. It hadn't occurred to him until about nine months ago that he would have to actually get a job, which paid actual money and required actual skills. No matter how hard he thought about it, he still hadn't come across anything remotely feasible and time was running out.  
  
"I'd join you, if it wasn't for the fact that Atlantis isn't really lost, it's just…misplaced." Said Ron.  
  
"How can you 'misplace' something like Atlantis?"  
  
"It's really very simple - if you're a muggle. You see, thousands of years ago a great flood was threatening to engulf the whole city (which was somewhere in the Pacific) and a very cheeky wizard named Bob…"  
  
"Bob?" Asked Harry.  
  
"Yes, Bob… promised the people that he would save them from the flood on the condition that they gave him a small supply of the magic waters which sprung from the earth, giving the power of eternal youth. They all said yes, and so he transported the entire city to a place which was very seldom threatened by floods, or anything else remotely interesting. Which was…"  
  
"Yes…"  
  
"Basingstoke."  
  
"Basingstoke?"  
  
"Yes, Harry, Basingstoke. Now who wants to play Chess…I brought my travel set with the tiny, ickle people."  
  
"I'm just going to the toilet. I'll be back soon, so don't miss me too much" Hermione said, standing up to leave the small compartment.  
  
"Missing you already!" She heard Ron call as she closed the door behind her and made her way towards the bathroom. The Hogwarts Express was an enchanted steam train with a long, narrow corridor stretching down one side, and a row of small compartments, big enough to seat six people, down the other. Hermione looked out the window as she ambled down the rocking train. The sun had risen high in the sky and was smiling down on what looked like a perfect September afternoon. The emerald hills and fields billowed past, punctuated occasionally by small, stony villages and dark woods.  
  
Reaching the bathroom door, Hermione put her hand on the small brass knob, and turned it to enter. As a child, Hermione could remember the dingy bathrooms of muggle trains, grey and cold and filled with the rancid stench of things she never wanted to think about. The bathroom on this train couldn't be more different. It was the size of an average classroom, the ceiling was high and from it hung a large crystal chandelier, the kind Hermione's mother absolutely hated. There was a large bath and a separate shower cubicle and a grand looking toilet, all made of white marble and gold. There were stacks of deep crimson towels and drapes around the bath and shower of the same shade.  
  
Hermione's footsteps echoed across the marble floor as the walked towards one of the full-length mirrors. She stood before it for a while, examining her reflection. She had grown much taller since the first time she had come into this bathroom – she was now only a few inches shorter than Harry. Her face seemed older, more intelligent and formed, and she'd had her hair cut into a stylish bob which smoothly framed her face. She smiled at her own reflection, which smiled back. "Looking good," she said aloud.  
  
"You too," replied the image in the mirror.  
  
Making her way back to the compartment she gazed absently out of the windows, thinking about nothing in particular, but happy to be back on her favourite train, going to the best school in the world with the most excellent friends she had ever had. She was just wondering what would be for dinner when her face hit something firm.  
  
"Ow," she muttered, rubbing her forehead. She looked up to see what she had crashed into (hoping it was the witch with the refreshments – she could really do with a cauldren cake right about now), only to discover a very familiar face glaring down at her. "Oh, you." She drew her eyes level with Draco Malfoy's nose, and then looked up into his own eyes.  
  
"Watch where you're going next time, Granger" Draco said wearily, looking down at her like she was an irritating tree stump which just kept getting in his way. Hermione hated it when he called her that and looked at him for a moment longer, hoping to show her disgust at bumping into him of all people. But Dracro was ignoring her again, and had started to continue along the corridor in the opposite direction.  
  
"Wanker," she muttered under her breath as she slid back the door to her own compartment and walked in. Ron was happily beating Harry at chess, and Harry was munching some chocolate frogs desperately trying to think of his next move. Hermione settled beside the window and gazed at the passing cows, thinking of nothing again. I wonder what Draco will do next year… she thought to herself. Probably set up a muggle orphanage for the sole purpose of torturing small children. Or maybe he'll realise the error of his ways and run off to Austria to skip cheerfully across the mountains singing various songs from "The Sound of Music". Hermione smiled to inwardly as she pictured this last image of Draco, and her thoughts returned to their encounter in the corridor. She couldn't help but notice his eyes, so dull and grey – didn't they used to have a hint of sparkling blue? He looked so tired and weary, too tired to even insult her properly. All that Death Eating must be knackering, she thought, but was interrupted from her musings by the door opening to reveal a girl Hermione had never seen before.  
  
She was a little short, but had a very elegantly curved figure so that she looked perfectly proportional. Her long hair curled in autumnal ringlets to her waist and her black eyes glittered at those within the room. She gave an embarrassed smile and said, "Sorry, wrong room" and turned to leave, closing the door behind her.  
  
"Wow," said Ron, "who was she?"  
  
"Dunno," said Harry, still staring at the door. "But I'd like to know."  
  
  
  
OK, so it was a kinda strange chapter, but I liked writing it, so that's alright. I promise there will be some kind of action or something else remotely interesting soon. In the mean time please please please review otherwise I'll think no one loves me and I will cry. Even if it's a bad review, anything will do (  
  
Loubi Lou 


	3. Midsummer Night's Dream

Disclaimer: obviously, I don't own any of this stuff (I think it's all actually owned by Bloomsbury Books, Warner Brothers and J K the magnificent). So don't sue me (it's not like there'd be any point anyway; I don't have anything to take)  
  
  
  
1 Chapter Three  
  
Dusk swirled above the Great Hall in a whirlpool of peacock-coloured clouds and pure white stars. The windows were open to allow evening breezes, laden with the warmth of Southern sunshine, to wash through the darkening hall as the throng of fresh-faced students filled the waiting tables. Harry, Ron and Hermione installed themselves in their familiar spots near the back of the Hall and watched the last few people straggle in.  
  
A silence descended upon the crowd as Hagrid led a troop of fidgety first years into the Hall, carrying a tattered old hat and a very precarious looking stool. Harry briefly wondered where Professor McGonagall was, as it was usually her who carried out the ritual sorting, but was distracted from his thinking by a tremendous roar of joy from his table as the first new student was sorted into Gryffindor. Each nervous eleven-year-old was received by a momentous cheer from their house table (except the Slytherin table who managed to make an innocent cheer sound something akin to the jeering of a crowd at an execution) and the hall was once again filled with the joyous echoes of a new school year after two months of silence.  
  
The sorting took longer than usual as so many frightened parents had enrolled their children at the safe haven of Hogwarts. When most people were seated, Professor Dumbledore hushed the clamor by standing before them all. Harry couldn't help but be in awe of this kind-looking man, his smiling face surveying the petrified huddle of new first years. As the candle light sparkled in his clear blue eyes it was impossible to tell that this man was the only reason the wizards of the world could sleep at night without (too much) fear of Voldemort's return to power. The Ministry of Magic had continued to deny rumours of his ever-swelling dominance and the magical population had turned to Professor Dumbledore to lead them through this time of terror. Harry was still surprised that Dumbledore continued in his position as headmaster despite the troublesome burden of having to save the world. But as he cleared his throat to address his enraptured audience there was no weariness in his air, no sadness in his smile.  
  
"Welcome, welcome to a brand new year at Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. For those of you don't know, I am Albus Dumbledore, your headmaster."  
  
"What kind of wizard doesn't know who Dumbledore is?" whispered Ron.  
  
"Sssshhh!" was Hermione's only response.  
  
"Now before all of you stuff yourselves to bursting point with our spectacular feast, there are one or two things I have to say. Firstly, I am relieved to announce that the frequently empty position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher has been filled by Dr Harwald Dundridge, and expert in the field who has worked for the Ministry of Magic for the past thirty- nine years."  
  
Until Dumbledore waved his hand in the direction of Dr Dundridge, no one in the hall had even noticed this impossibly grey man sitting quietly at the end of the teachers' table. He was wearing grey robes and grey spectacles and had a very ordinary head of grey hair – the kind of non-shade often found spread across the walls of council administration offices and mental institutions. Dull, bland eyes blinked back at the field of faces who had turned to look at him and even his skin seemed totally devoid of colour. A few embarrassed hands made a vague attempt at applause, but this died away quickly.  
  
"Secondly," Dumbledore continued cheerfully, "In addition to the annual Yule Ball, thrown for all fourth years and above-" a murmur of both excited and miserable mumbles swept across the hall "-we will all be treated to a grand party on Midsummer's night to celebrate the closing of the school year. A cluster of senior students will be working hard throughout the year to organise it for us and everyone is invited! Well I think that's about it for tonight – dig in!"  
  
Excited conversation swelled in the Great Hall as the golden plates and goblets in front of them filled with all kinds of hearty autumnal fare.  
  
"Dumbledore said in his letter that one of my duties as Head Girl will be to get the organisation committee together," Hermione said before chewing thoughtfully for a moment, "would you two help?"  
  
"As if you'd need our help, " Ron said through a mouthful of Yorkshire pudding, "you'll have so much lively and imaginative input from the spectacularly exciting Martin McBoring"  
  
"His name is Martin McBorley and you should show him a little respect, he is Head Boy, after all. Anyway, I'm sure he's not nearly as dull as he may appear…" Hermione, Ron and Harry all looked doubtfully in Martin's direction to see a bespectacled, brown-haired boy sitting in the middle of the Hufflepuff table reading a book that looked like it could have been written by Merlin himself, apparently oblivious to the increasingly raucous food fight going on around him.  
  
As Harry took another forkful of chicken pie, the faint sound of tiny bells tinkled behind him and his nostrils filled with the most pleasant smell he had ever experienced. It was a quiet scent of tropical flowers, wide olive groves, coconuts, bronzed skin and white beaches. Looking round at first he was alarmed to see Professor McGonagall's retreating back, but she moved aside to reveal the perfect figure of the girl who had brightened the doorway of his train compartment earlier that day.  
  
She sat at the Gryffindor table in the only available seat and began to eat. Harry had a clear view of her face and noticed that she was even more spellbindingly beautiful than he had thought. Her long curls fell about her shoulders and down her back in perfect ringlets of every colour that hair could possibly be. Her eyes were not pure black, but faded into a glittering gold in the centre, framed by thick black eyelashes and smoothly arched eyebrows. Her lips were a soft coral colour, and her snow-white skin seemed to have been kissed at the cheeks by summer roses. Her beauty was more than just physical, though. There was a sort of romantic melancholy in her dark eyes and her lips which turned down slightly at the corners.  
  
As she pushed a strand of wild hair behind her ear, Harry realised that the sound of bells had come from the delicate silver bracelet, with tiny charms clinging to it, which adorned her pale wrist. Gazing at her in the warm candle light Harry thought he had never seen anything as beautiful in his entire life.  
  
"Umm…earth to Harry, come in Harry." Ron said loudly across the table, noticing that Harry seemed to be in some kind of mesmerized trance. He rolled his eyes and looked at Hermione for assistance.  
  
"Her name is Morwenna Linwood and she's starting this year in our classes. She used to go to Beauxbatons, but for some reason she's had to move here." At this information Harry managed to turn away from Morwenna to look at his friends who were smiling at him knowingly.  
  
"What?" He asked defensively.  
  
"Nothing Harry" they said in chorus. Harry looked round again, but this time his attention was caught by another pair of eyes fixed on Morwenna. He instantly recognised that insolent stare as Draco Malfoy's, who appeared to be just as captivated by the newcomer's beauty as Harry was. For a moment, Harry looked back at Morwenna, but he inadvertently caught Draco's eye and the two of them looked daggers at each other across the room. Morwenna must have felt the tension in the air as she looked up at Draco, then turned her glance towards Harry, who suddenly became very interested in his goblet of pumpkin juice.  
  
"If Malfoy thinks that someone like her could ever be interested in someone like him, he's got another thing coming." Harry thought to himself as he spooned custard onto his bowl of apple pie. It was a good few seconds before he noticed that he had ladled the sticky yellow sauce into a neat puddle on the table.  
  
***  
  
"Shit, shit, shit," Morwenna thought to herself as she poked her, now cold, apple pie. "I can't believe I got put into the same house as Harry Potter. Why does he have to be so good looking anyway? His friends look nice too, but if they knew, they'd hate me as much as he would. Why did I even come here? What was I trying to achieve? Maybe I should run off to a secluded cave somewhere and become a hermit and talk to my hand. At least my hand doesn't hate me…although it doesn't have particularly great conversation skills…"  
  
Morwenna looked up again to see Harry staring at her in a look of pure hatred. "Oh God, he hates me already and he doesn't even know. That blonde boy's cute though, and it looked like Harry thought about as much of him as he will of me when he finds out. Mum always said that the Slytherins and the Gryffindors despised each other the most…looks like I'll be spending my time with the Slytherins then."  
  
  
  
There it is then – chapter 3. OK, so not much has happened yet, but it will ….promise…( Please please please review or I'll curl up in a ball and roll around a lot. Thanx xxx 


	4. Friendly Foe

Disclaimer: Hold thy horses and don't get thy knickers in a twist, it's all ok coz I'm not making any money and I'm not trying to hypnotize you. HARRY POTTER, characters, names and related indicia are trademarks of Warner Bros. Bloomsbury Books and JK Rowling. So there.  
  
1 Chapter 4  
  
Hermione was determined to get up as early as she could this morning, not only because it was the first day of real lessons, but because she still hadn't managed to do her Head Girl duty and introduce herself to the new French girl. Her plan to approach her in the noisy common room after dinner was foiled by Morwenna slipping through the boisterous crowds and going to bed abnormally early, but she wasn't going to escape so easily this morning.  
  
Never having been much of a morning person, Hermione awoke with a groan and opened one eye. The heavy curtains around her bed were drawn and she felt like she could curl up and sleep in there until the first showers of spring sprinkled against her windowpane. She grudgingly sat up, rubbing her eyes and yawning and wondering what was for breakfast, and pulled back the curtains. It took a moment for her mind to start working at the same speed as her eyes, but she soon noticed that Morwenna's bed was empty, the downy duvet neatly laid out as if no one had slept there at all. The only sign of habitation was a small stuffed toy in the fuzzy, grey shape of a dog, which sat on the large pillow next the sleeping figure of a sleek, black cat.  
  
"Hmm. Why do I get the feeling she's avoiding us?" Thought Hermione as she got dressed. She then decided to try and corner her over breakfast.  
  
"Ok, she's got to be here somewhere," Hermione muttered under her breath, scanning the rows of breakfasting Gryffindors in the Great Hall for a curly head, "Everyone has to eat." Eventually she spotted her target, and with a Head-Girl-glint in her eye, swooped in for the kill.  
  
"Hi! I'm Hermione, Head Girl. I'm also in Gryffindor and I share a room with you. Do you mind if I sit?" She asked in her chirpiest voice.  
  
Morwenna slowly turned to face her cheerful attacker and regarded her for a moment with a frustratingly grave and superior look. At last she said, with the hint of a mocking smile gliding across her perfect lips, "I'd rather you didn't"  
  
For a moment Hermione looked as if a random old granny had just slapped her in the face, but she soon collected herself.  
  
"Oh, right! Well, I'll just go…and sit…somewhere else. Seeya then. Bye." She stumblingly said, and turned on her heel to flounce back to Harry and Ron, who had stationed themselves as far away as possible through an interminable fear of having to actually talk to a pretty girl.  
  
But Hermione was not the kind of girl who gives up without a fight, especially when Dumbledore himself has asked her to befriend the new girl. After Breakfast, Hermione found Morwenna brooding at the back of her Transfiguration class and sat as close as possible, determined to extract some form of conversation out of her by the end of the day.  
  
When Professor McGonagall swept into the class, her eyes instantly fell on Morwenna and a warm smile filled her face. "You don't see that everyday," thought Hermione, surprised to see anything other than a stern frown on her teacher's thin face.  
  
"Welcome, witches and wizards to another year of transfiguration. We have a new student joining us from France today and I hope you will all be friendly to Morwenna Linwood as she learns the ropes."  
  
"Only if she's going to be friendly to us." Hermione said to herself before her teacher continued.  
  
"To ease you in gently to the new school year, we will be practicing our practical application of large-scale transfiguration, concentrating on stationary objects, although you can try to transfigure live creatures if you feel up to it. Although I greatly doubt any of you are." McGonagall said, looking skeptically at each student in her class, pausing pointedly on Neville Longbottom. "In about fifteen minutes we will visit Hagrid in his cabin and attempt to transfigure it into a circus tent."  
  
McGonagall quickly ran through the basics of the spell they would be using (a somewhat complicated flourish of the wand accompanied by an even more confusing spell in an unrecognisable language – possibly Yemeni), and the class trooped across the school grounds in the cool autumn sun to the edge of the Forbidden Forest.  
  
Clustered round Hagrid's cabin there were some surprising, often amusing displays of magical ineptitude which tended to feature dangerously lopsided red and white striped sheets of canvas, held up by precarious-looking poles from which Hagrid emerged with a baffled Fang at his heels. Morwenna was the only student, including Hermione, who managed to complete the task at hand. Her circus tent came complete with a startled, candy-floss-selling Hagrid and a troop of polished, prancing pixies.  
  
Later on that afternoon, Hermione was curled up in one of the plump armchairs of the Gryffindor common room, reading over her transfiguration notes from the morning's lesson wondering how Professor McGonagall had still failed to realise that you weren't actually supposed to do any form of real work on the first day. No matter how hard she tried to cram information into it, Hermione's brain was beginning to violently repel any form of new thought.  
  
With a sigh she slammed her massive books shut and looked around the common room. It was practically empty as classes were still going on all over the school. Hermione had a free period during the last lesson of a Monday and she had thought the common room would be deserted, but when she entered the quiet room she heard the soft tinkle of bells and knew that Morwenna was in there too.  
  
She now sat in the armchair opposite Hermione's, engrossed in a thick muggle novel. While she read, Hermione studied her petite form and thought that she could possibly be the most beautiful girl she'd ever seen. She had everything Hermione had always wanted – her wild hair was stunning, not bushy; her mysterious eyes sat atop strong and smooth cheekbones and, although she looked intelligent, there was nothing geeky about her. "Yep, she's perfect," Hermione thought with only a touch of resentment, "shame she's such a bitch". With this thought in mind, Hermione was happy for a moment, but her ever-troublesome conscience reminded her that she didn't know for a fact that Morwenna was a bitch, and that she's probably just shy and really nice once you got to know her.  
  
Quietly wondering just how she Morwenna got her hair to behave itself, Hermione was suddenly interrupted by a burst of loud laughter as two familiar, and not entirely welcome, voices battled through the portrait hole. Hermione quickly grabbed a book and pretended to be completely absorbed in it before Parvarti and Lavender tried to force conversation on her. She was just forming a good excuse to escape when the inane giggling hushed and she was unexpectedly relieved of the task.  
  
Hermione looked up to see both Parvarti and Lavender gazing at Morwenna with what can only be described as awe.  
  
"Hi Morwenna," said Lavender with a hopeful smile.  
  
"Yeah, hi" said Parvarti. Morwenna lifted her head and looked at the pair in much the same manner as she had looked at Hermione earlier and continued to say nothing.  
  
"Oh my God! Did we interrupt, coz we just wanted to say hi." Flounced Parvarti.  
  
"Yeah. Oh wow, what are you reading? I just love books, don't you? But, I find them really long sometimes. And they're kinda boring if they haven't got any pictures and stuff. If they had pictures they'd be, like, really popular. But who's gonna read a book if I hasn't got any pictures? Right? Books without pictures are boring, if you ask me."  
  
Hermione was struck by just how intensely stupid her classmates must sound to Morwenna, and she noticed an amused and bemused look sweep across the new girl's face.  
  
"Don't you think that's something of a gross generalisation?" Morwenna said flatly.  
  
"Umm, yeah, I guess so," was her cheerful reply from Lavender, "Well, anyway, we'll seeya around OK. Ciao!"  
  
With that the pair made off in the direction of the bedrooms, undoubtedly to redo their, already perfect, hair. Hermione couldn't help but sympathise with the distinct look of relief that passed over Morwenna's face when the manically perky girls had left. Dark curls fell over Morwenna's cheeks as she lowered her head to resume reading, but through the curtain of glossy tendrils, Hermione could see that Morwenna's eyes were not absorbing the words on the page. She was lost in deep thought and Hermione wondered how she managed to look so sad, yet so alive.  
  
***  
  
Since being given their timetables, the entire Gryffindor Sixth Form had been dreading Tuesday morning. It was unusually cold in the stony corridors as they made their way down into the bowels of the school for Snape's potions lesson.  
  
Harry, Ron and Hermione huddled in the back row of the dungeon and looked around them. Snape was uncharacteristically late – even Neville managed to make it to his seat before he arrived – but Hermione noticed that someone else was missing as well.  
  
"Wonder where Morwenna is." She said to her friends, who had both been searching the class for the pretty new girl.  
  
"Maybe she got lost and strayed into a forbidden room and got speared by a rampaging Erumpent" Ron suggested happily, who had decidedly gone off Morwenna when Hermione told him what happened at breakfast the day before.  
  
"Don't be so mean, she's probably really nice once you get to know her." Said Harry defensively – he was still convinced that no one as good-looking as Morwenna could possibly be as nasty as Ron was making out.  
  
"Stop deluding yourself, Harry. She's a bitch and there's nothing you can do about it. Blythe tried to talk to her yesterday and she just stared at her as if a flobberworm had just tried to introduce itself." Ron said. "Those Beauxbatons girls are all the same. Evil."  
  
"Weird," said Hermione, looking puzzled for a moment, "She went to Beauxbatons, right?"  
  
"Yes"  
  
"Well she doesn't have a French accent. Not even a bit. She sounded like she'd lived in England all her life." The others mirrored Hermione's puzzled expression, until Neville swung round and asked them if they were talking about Morwenna.  
  
"Mmmhmm," they all said.  
  
"Well she's got an English accent because her parents are English. And she's not evil, she's really nice, actually." Neville said, to the surprise of everyone present. He looked remarkably triumphant at knowing something that even Hermione didn't know.  
  
"How do you know?" asked Hermione, wondering how Neville knew something even she didn't know.  
  
"I talked to her last night in the common room. She sounds a bit superior at first, but she's really sweet. She helped me with my transfiguration ho- "  
  
At that point Snape swept in with an extraordinarily vicious snarl twisting his gaunt face. The class hushed and he instantly began to write the ingredients for a Petrification potion on the blackboard. Before he finished, the vast wooden doors of the dungeon slowly creaked open to reveal the hesitant face of Morwenna.  
  
"Professor Snape?" She asked slowly. He said nothing, but looked at her with a very curious expression. The class thought his head was going to explode through anger at a student daring to be this late for his class. But he continued to say nothing.  
  
"I'm really sorry. I got kinda lost on the third floor, then when I went back the stairs had moved and I couldn't get down. I'm really sorry. I'll make up the work after school if you want".  
  
Snape still looked very odd, as if he recognised the girl in his doorway, but couldn't understand what she was doing there. After he recovered, he motioned her to sit down in the only remaining seat – next to Draco Malfoy.  
  
"What's wrong with Snape, he looks like Morwenna just came back from the dead," whispered Ron to his friends, who simply shrugged in reply., "He didn't give her detention or anything. Maybe he's sick."  
  
All the eyes in the class (even those in jars on Snape's desk) watched Morwenna glide to her seat and arrange herself next to Draco. Hermione could see them easily from where she was sitting, and she was suddenly very interested to find out how they got on. After a moment, Draco leaned over and whispered something in Morwenna's ear. Hermione supposed from his countenance that it was some snide, leering comment about a pretty witch like Morwenna being in a muggle-loving house like Gryffindor. Morwenna stopped writing for a moment, looked Draco right in the face with that penetrating stare of hers, then, much to Hermione's surprise, she smiled. Whatever she said to him next made Draco, perhaps for the first time in his life, look almost abashed and an honest smile filled his face. The pair resumed copying the ingredients onto their parchment and Hermione followed suit.  
  
"Hmm…maybe she's not that bad after all." Hermione thought to herself as she absently scribbled down notes, "How does she manage to be friends with Malfoy and Neville at the same time? I have to get to know her better. She actually seems quite cool."  
  
***  
  
"It's not 55 grams, it's 25. If you put in 55 you'd die," Morwenna whispered.  
  
"It says 55," Draco hissed.  
  
"No, it's just his bad handwriting. Trust me, it's 25."  
  
"Why should I trust you? I know the Gryffindors all want me strung up from the Quidditch goals, maybe you're in on it too." Draco said with a playful smile.  
  
"Fine. If you want to become a statue forever and ever then put in 55 grams of Flintroot. Just don't come running to me when they sell you to the museum of stupid wizards who don't listen to their friends".  
  
Draco gave a resigned sigh and started to write again.  
  
"What makes you so knowledgeable anyway? You're almost as bad as Granger," said Draco, nodding in Hermione's direction. Morwenna looked in the direction he indicated and watched Hermione for a moment. She then looked at Draco again.  
  
"She's pretty. Why do you hate her so much?"  
  
"I don't really hate her. She just gets on my nerves with her poncy-arse friends and perfect grades"  
  
"Oh, I see." Said Morwenna with a knowing smirk. Draco looked at her again with apparent confusion.  
  
"What do you "see"?"  
  
"Oh nothing." Morwenna replied, raising a smug eyebrow and smiling some more.  
  
"What!?" questioned Draco, looking slightly more exasperated.  
  
"You're jealous of her".  
  
Draco laughed. "Jealous of her? You've gone mental. Why on earth would I be jealous of that mudblood?"  
  
"You are," Morwenna said, with a teasing grin, "She's got everything you want. She's clever, she's pretty and she's got fantastical, lifelong friends and you're just a lonely, bitter old man."  
  
Draco was about to protest, but he accidentally brushed his hand against Morwenna's and she gave a faint cry of pain and a cloud of distress washed over her pretty face.  
  
"Oh my God, I'm sorry. Did I hurt you, coz I didn't mean to. I didn't touch you that hard, did I? Whatever I did, I'm really sorry."  
  
"No, it's fine, you just surprised me, that's all. Now, shall we get on with making this potion then?" Draco nodded, but he wasn't convinced that she was unhurt. He remembered the look on her face and couldn't understand how he'd hurt her.  
  
At the front of the class, Snape was making notes and deciding what awful essay to give to his least favourite class. But he couldn't help looking up at Morwenna again.  
  
"Remarkable," he muttered under his breath as he gazed at the painfully familiar face.  
  
"Just remarkable."  
  
  
  
  
  
Phew. That was a long chapter. I everyone feeling knackered now, coz I am. I hope it's ok, coz it's difficult to tell when you're writing it.  
  
Anyway, thanx thanx thanx to those who reviewed, it's really sweet of you all and I really appreciate it. Anyways, I'd better go and do some actual school work now.  
  
Seeya in chapter 5 (if you can be bothered to read it that is. I won't be offended if you don't) 


	5. Cupcakes and Confessions

Disclaimer: I disclaim any accusations that I am pretending to be JK Rowling or to have made any of this up except the stuff that is obviously made up (duh) or that I am making any form of profit in any other way than intellectually. Thank you.  
  
  
  
Some weeks later – it's nearly Halloween and life is as normal as it ever can be at Hogwarts…  
  
1 Chapter5  
  
"Pass the peas, please Harry."  
  
Harry looked across the dinner table at Ron with mild confusion. "What do you want them for? You're not gonna throw them at the Slytherins again are you? Coz I'm still finding bits of Brussels' Sprouts in varying stages of decomposition in my clothes from the last food fight that you orchestrated."  
  
"No," Ron said, looking witheringly at his friend, "I'm going to eat them."  
  
A confused look again found itself on Harry's face.  
  
"Blythe's new motto – 'eat green or go green'. She thinks I'm gonna get scurvy due to my unhealthy eating habits. She's put me on a nutritious new diet which involves the consumption of much green food and seeds."  
  
"Bummer." Said Harry sympathetically. He supposed this was one reason to be grateful for his lack of girlfriend, but at the same time he was quite prepared to never eat another chocolate frog if it meant that he could wrap his arms around the curves of a feminine figure whenever the fancy took him.  
  
Ron was happily tucking into his mound of peas and Harry was still pondering the wonders of the female of the species, when Hermione bounced over to where they were sitting. A broad and alarmingly smug grin flashed across her face and it took a moment for the laws of gravity to exert their authority over her cheerily buoyant body before she managed to sit down.  
  
"What are you looking so chirpy about?" Asked Harry.  
  
'Nothing. I'm just happy that it's Friday," Hermione said, before reaching for the jug of pumpkin juice. Harry looked at her for a moment, knowing that she only wore that smile when she had discovered something that nobody else had even thought of – usually something to do with the aeronautical powers of the Soarshrub. He quickly decided that he'd rather not know whatever it was that had made Hermione so cheery and, risking a lecture about not taking enough of an active interest in his studies, asked Ron what he wanted to do in Hogsmeade the next day.  
  
Sensing that the conversation was not going the way she had planned, Hermione made an attempt to direct the talk back to herself.  
  
"And," she said importantly, "I've discovered her weakness."  
  
"Whose weakness?" Asked Harry through a mouthful of chips.  
  
"Magical Morwenna." There was definitely a cynical hint to her tone as she spoke the name. "She may be perfect in potions and terrific at transfiguration, but she's utter bollocks at arithmancy." She now looked decidedly like the cat that had got both the cream and a big shiny fish.  
  
Ron and Harry simultaneously thought to themselves, 'who cares?', but they knew how much being top of the class meant to Hermione and felt that there was no escape but to partake in the conversation.  
  
"I don't believe you," Ron said, at the same time remembering why he hated peas so much and reaching for Harry's chips, "even I'm not totally crap in arithmancy and she can't be as bad as me."  
  
"Well she's obviously not as bad as you, Ron." Hermione rolled her eyes. "But she's still pretty pants and had to get Professor Vector to help her."  
  
"Maybe she's just got other things on her mind. She still looks really depressed and arithmancy's not exactly the most invigorating of subjects, is it?" Harry said, ever defiant of any claims that Morwenna is anything other than perfect. The three of them looked down the table to where Morwenna was sitting, chatting aimlessly with Neville who seemed enraptured by every word she said.  
  
"I still think she's evil. Look at her thinking away quietly to herself. What's she thinking about?" asked Ron. "I bet she's forming a dastardly plot to take over the world, with that slithering little snake Malfoy as her monkey-boy and Neville as her loyal puppy-dog."  
  
"No one who smells as good as her can be evil," Harry said. Hermione pretended she hadn't heard him.  
  
"Whatever, Ron. She's not evil; she's just depressed. Sometimes I see her in lessons and stuff just staring into space, like she's got the whole world on her shoulders. I feel really sorry for her," she said.  
  
"I'd feel sorry for anyone with Neville and Malfoy as their only friends," Harry said with a laugh.  
  
"Don't forget Parvarti and Lavender." Ron chimed in.  
  
"I'd still like to know what's wrong though. I feel like I should help her, she looks like she really needs a hug." Hermione said thoughtfully. In her mind she decided to go to Professor Dumbledore to ask if there was anything she could do for Morwenna to make her feel better. She knew the likelihood that he'd tell her anything useful was extremely low, but she thought it was her duty as head girl to keep the wellbeing of her fellow students as her priority and felt that the least she could do was ask. Plus she was very, very curious to see what made the girl who seemed to have everything quite so depressed.  
  
***  
  
Later that evening, Ron, Hermione and Harry made their way down to Hagrid's cabin for a chat with their favourite gamekeeper and to have their weekly competition of seeing who could eat a whole one of Hagrid's famous rock cakes first without choking.  
  
When they arrived, Harry hammered on the door for a while before they decided that Hagrid must be out and were just turning to go back to the castle when a deep but pathetic voice came from within, telling them the door was unlocked. They peered in to see a very glum looking Hagrid, sitting on his bed, clutching a hot water bottle and a large bar of chocolate.  
  
The little hut was stiflingly hot, a fierce fire burned in the corner despite the unusually warm October breeze that drifted past the closed windows.  
  
"You alright Hagrid, you look a bit depressed." Asked Hermione in the most sympathetic voice she could muster.  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine – jus' feelin' a bit…blue." Hagrid replied, making a clear effort to sound cheerful. "I baked some cakes to cheer meself up, but they're not very good. I don' seem to be able to do anything righ' today. Try one and see."  
  
Ron, Hermione and Harry turned their heads to look at the innocent-looking pile of cupcakes on the wooden table and wondered how Hagrid's cooking could possibly get any worse. The three looked at each other nervously before slowly reaching for a cake each. Ron rummaged in the pile for a while, trying to find the smallest one, then, after a deep breath and closing their eyes, the three of them sunk they're teeth into what Harry thought might possibly be his last ever piece of food.  
  
Three jaws cautiously moved up and down for a few moments while increasingly confused looks appeared on the faces of each student. Ron took another bite of his cake, this time with less trepidation, and he actually started to smile.  
  
"Oh, don' laugh at me. I know I'm a failure, yeh don' have to rub it in." Hagrid moaned, and Ron, Harry and Hermione did the exact opposite to Hagrid's wishes and laughed even more.  
  
"What's so funny?"  
  
"This is the best chocolate cupcake I've had in years." Exclaimed Harry. Hagrid looked baffled.  
  
"They're fantastic, Hagrid."  
  
"Can I take some back to the boarding house?"  
  
Hagrid looked even more depressed than he was before.  
  
"Now you're jus' makin' fun o' me. Well I won' have it. If you're jus' goin' to come 'ere and tease me then you needn't come any more." He said huffily and looked in the other direction.  
  
"Don't be silly, Hagrid. Why on earth would we want to make fun of you? These are truly scrumptious cakes and if you don't believe me then try one yourself." Said Hermione, setting a cake on Hagrid's large knee.  
  
After trying a cake, then another, then one more for good luck, Hagrid agreed that they were possibly the best cakes ever in the history of the world and was quite cheered up by this thought. An hour after entering the cabin, the group of friends finally settled down with large mugs of hot tea and chatted about the week's events.  
  
"Dr Dundridge set a wild Fwooper on us and we were all going mental until Morwenna turned it into a tin of tuna and put it back in it's soundproof cage," recounted Ron.  
  
"That was the most exciting thing to happen all year in Defense. Dr Dundridge is so incredibly dull. His lessons are possibly more boring than History of Magic and he doesn't even let us sleep in class. How are we expected to learn if we can't have a little nap here and there?" complained Harry, whose enjoyment of Defense Against the Dark Arts had decidedly decreased after Professor Lupin left.  
  
"Morwenna really shouldn't have done that. I mean, we'll never learn how to perform the silencing charm if we don't get to practice on the real thing. She should have left it to let others have a go." Hermione said.  
  
"And then we'd all be in the loony bin by now coz no one can actually do the silencing charm yet, can they?" Said Ron. Hermione looked miffed for a moment, but then an idea struck her.  
  
"It's true, she is very clever. But she's awfully depressed, have you noticed it, Hagrid?"  
  
"Well you'd be depressed too, if you're Mum- …Now, wait a minute. I'm not as stupid as I look yeh know. Dumbledore told us not to talk about Morwenna and I'm not going to betray him. You'll just have to ask her yourself if yeh want to know what's up." After this Hagrid slipped back into his depressed meditations and the others thought they'd best leave him to it.  
  
"Weird. I hope Hagrid's all right. He looked soooo depressed," said Hermione, looking truly concerned.  
  
"Yeah. But I do hope this new found depression lasts long enough for him to do a spot more baking." Laughed Ron, despite his worries about Hagrid.  
  
But Harry had another thing on his mind, and that was Morwenna. What had happened to her that was so horrible that the teachers weren't allowed to talk about it?  
  
***  
  
"And this is the Three Broomsticks. The most opulent establishment in Hogsmeade. You want a drink?" Asked Draco as he pushed open the dingy door.  
  
"Yeah, I'm really thirsty. Who would've thought a tiny village like this held so many exciting and interesting opportunities for the common magical consumer to indulge their appetite for the purchase of inconsequential items." Said Morwenna in a distinctly mocking tone. She was in the best mood she'd been in for ages and was actually really enjoying her first trip to the town her mother had told her so much about.  
  
"OK, so it's not Paris. But you have to agree, it does have something of a rustic charm about it. Two butterbeers please."  
  
"Oi! How do you know I want a butterbeer?"  
  
"I always know what my women want."  
  
Morwenna stifled a snigger. "You wouldn't know the first thing about women."  
  
"You'd be surprised, sweetlips," Draco replied with an attempt at a flirty waggle of his left eyebrow. At this, Morwenna snorted and almost choked on a mouthful of butterbeer as she burst out laughing. She fell into a fit of hysterics as some beer fizzed and tickled its way up her nose and almost keeled over onto the floor with her hand clamped to her mouth to prevent her from spraying warm beer all over Draco.  
  
It took her several minutes to recover herself, all this time Draco sat opposite her, calmly watching with an amused smile on his smug face.  
  
"Have you quite finished?" he asked as she sat back up in her seat and tried to rearrange her face into a vaguely normal expression. She took a deep breath and smiled her dazzling smile.  
  
"Yes, I'm fine. I hate when that happens, don't you?"  
  
"It never happens."  
  
"Oh. How sad."  
  
"Hmmm. May I ask what was quite so amusing?"  
  
"Draco Malfoy: international man of mystery. No women is safe from his irresistible charms," Morwenna replied in the cheesy voice of a commercial voiceover.  
  
"Shut up, I'm charming," Draco said defensively.  
  
"Yeah, hon. Sorry. The hoards of girls constantly clamoring for your attention must have just escaped my notice," said Morwenna in feigned apology.  
  
"You're just jealous of my dashing good looks."  
  
"Yeah, that's it."  
  
Draco decided it was definitely time to change the subject – his lack of girlfriend had been bothering him recently and he didn't need to be reminded of it by some dappy Gryffindor. He just didn't understand why someone as rich, powerful and good-looking as him didn't even have a whiff of a girlfriend.  
  
"So, Morwenna, tell me about you."  
  
Morwenna paused for a second before deciding how to reply. Eventually she thought that evasive action was required. "Well, first of all, most people just call my Mo. Morwenna's too much of a mouthful."  
  
"OK, Mo, I've known you for, what, a month now? And I still don't know the first thing about you. I don't even know why you're here all of a sudden. So spill."  
  
"Well I don't know you either. I'm not going to just pour my heart out to, rumour has it, a manic fanatic of the dark arts."  
  
"So you want to know about me? OK, there's not much to tell. I grew up with my parents in our manor in Buckinghamshire then I came to Hogwarts and haven't done much since. I'm very dull really," Draco said flippantly, equally as unwilling to talk about his past and his family.  
  
But something about Mo's open face and deep eyes made him want to tell her everything. All the hurt and pain of his childhood. Ever since he could remember he'd wished there was someone he could talk to, someone who's eyes would pity him instead of look at him like he was the embodiment of pure evil.  
  
He sighed and took a long draught of beer before embarking upon the long and not entirely uplifting story of his life.  
  
"My Mum and Dad got married, as most people back then did, to keep money and pure magical blood in the family, their one aim was to produce an heir. As you can see, they succeeded. They'd barely even met before they got married and when they did get married, they found that they were both as corrupt and emotionally empty as each other. Father brought me up to believe that the only way to gain power was to take it, and the only way to gain respect was to force it upon other people. Mother treated father and I like kings. Together they made me think that the world was mine, that all others were inferior and that we'd all be better off if Lord Voldemort were still in power.  
  
"When I got to Hogwarts I was ready to be adored. Of course I didn't count on Harry Potter getting there first," for a moment he paused, scratching the sticky table top with his chewed thumbnail. The familiar twist of hate sparked in his eyes before he looked back at Mo.  
  
"What's a guy supposed to do in competition with someone who saved to world when he was one year old? That's why I hate him, you know? Somehow, this scruffy loser, his poverty-stricken side-kick and mudblood girlfriend are still more popular than me."  
  
Draco looked at his drink for a moment before draining the last dregs of the glass and gazing out the window.  
  
"So. I see why you don't like the guy - that's obvious. But are you really some kind of mental death eater?"  
  
Draco sighed again and slowly looked into Mo's eyes. He trusted her, and for a bizarre moment it felt like he was telling her things she already knew, as if he was five years old and admitting to a teacher that he'd lied, even though the teacher knew the truth all along.  
  
"Nah. I'm not evil. I just feel like the only way I can avoid completely disappearing, is to be like the total opposite of Harry. People in Slytherin respect me because they think I'm in league with You-Know-Who. But the truth is that- … I don't know… maybe I'm scared," he paused to look at Mo's face and she wore the same expression as a psychiatrist dealing with a loony.  
  
'Why the hell did I tell her that, I must've sounded like a total loser,' he asked himself when she went to fetch another couple of drinks. Since he was a baby he'd learnt to keep his feelings tightly locked inside his head and this goody-goody witch had weasled it all out of him. 'How can I look her in the ey when she comes back?'  
  
"Oh don't look at me like that, Draco," Mo said with a roll of her eyes, "I won't tell anyone and, in case you're worried, I don't feel sorry for you. You and me are pretty similar, you know? But I would never have the guts to say what you just said. Now drink up. We've got to be back at the castle by seven for dinner."  
  
"Hey, you're not getting off that easily. You still haven't told me anything about you. I feel that I'm now owed something after my award- winningly sentimental speech."  
  
"OK, OK. But I really can't tell you everything coz I don't even understand it all. I grew up all over the world. My mum and I just travelled everywhere to get away from Voldemort and all the crap that was going on here. For as far back as we can trace out family, the women have been travellers. Wandering here, there and everywhere, never staying for long enough to feel at home, never making real friends. Mum used to say that the blood of a thousand races runs in my veins. There has never been a boy born into our family and we ditch any man that gets too close. For centuries we were persecuted for being gypsy witches, the epitome of male muggle fears."  
  
"So where's your mother now?"  
  
"She died. And because I have no other family, I came here. She used to go to school here and I just wanted to see what it was like, to meet people who knew her and see the things she always used to tell me about. So I'm pretty alone. Just like you, I guess."  
  
Before Draco could reply, Morwenna looked around the bar and groaned. "Oh here we go again. More sympathetic and querulous looks from the Brady Bunch," she said.  
  
"The who? What are you waffling about, crazy lady?" Draco also looked around the bar, it was crowded but there were only a few faces that he recognized and not one of them was giving him a sympathetic look. He began to turn back to Morwenna when the door opened and a stream of cold air rushed across his face. Through the door came the well-known giggle of a mousy-haired genius, a lanky, red-haired idiot and a raven-headed hero. Each of them saw Draco first, their sweet little faces fell and they looked with malice in his direction. It was only too easy for him to do the same. They then noticed Morwenna and, as she had predicted, gave her a curious and sympathetic look. She rolled her eyes again as Draco turned back to face her, a confused expression furrowing his brow.  
  
"How did you know they were coming?" Draco began to ask, but before he finished the question, Mo cleared her throat loudly and got up to leave.  
  
"Come on, we don't wanna be late for dinner," she said briskly and walked out of the crowded bar.  
  
On the other side of the room, Ron, Harry and Hermione were settling in for a quick drink before returning to the castle. Harry and Ron were moaning about how Draco persisted in lurking like a bad smell in sociable places when he had no right to do so as there was not a sociable bone in his body. But Hermione's thoughts were through the door and on the road back to Hogwarts with Draco and Morwenna. It had to be just her imagination, but the way Morwenna looked at Draco when they came in – as if she felt sorry for him. How can anyone feel sorry for Draco Malfoy? He's evil. Surely.  
  
  
  
  
  
A/n: Oooopps, sorry about how long this took and the Dawson's Creek stylee emotional confessions that are totally out of character. But I hope you enjoyed it anyway….I promise something will actually happen some time in this story. Some time… 


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